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Updated: June 10, 2025
Lupin, losing patience, was fastening him to one end of the rope, of which the other end was knotted round the bars and was preparing to let him down like a bale of goods, when Daubrecq woke up, in better condition: "That's over," he said. "I feel fit now. Will it take long?" "Pretty long. We are a hundred and fifty yards up."
Lupin, on his side, got ready an old building, standing in the middle of a large garden, not far from Paris, which presented all the necessary conditions of safety and isolation and which he called the Monkey's Cage. Unfortunately, Daubrecq must have suspected something, for every time, so to speak, he changed his route, or took the underground or a tram; and the cage remained unoccupied.
Vorenglade sold them, two hours ago, for the sum of forty thousand francs; and I have bought them back at the same price." Daubrecq burst into a great roar of laughter: "Lord, how funny! Forty thousand francs! You've paid forty thousand francs! To M. Nicole, I suppose, who sold you the list of the Twenty-seven? Well, would you like me to tell you the real name of M. Nicole? It's Arsene Lupin!"
Suppose you then find yourself dealing with a second blackmailer, even more grasping and more powerful than the first and one who, as a political adversary, is in a better position than Daubrecq to maintain the contest?" The secretary-general was struck by the argument. After a moment's thought, he said: "Come and see me in my office at four o'clock tomorrow. I will give you the particulars.
Daubrecq was about to spend his evening in the same manner in which he had spent the evening six weeks ago, while they were breaking into his villa at Enghien.
Daubrecq will resist long enough, at any rate, for us to reach him. Just think! Prasville is at my orders!" "Suppose he discovers who you are? The least inquiry will prove that there is no such person as M. Nicole." "But it will not prove that M. Nicole is the same person as Arsene Lupin. Besides, make yourself easy.
Daubrecq had moved to his winter quarters in Paris immediately after the burglary at the Villa Marie-Therese and was now living in his own house, on the left-hand side of the little Square Lamartine that opens out at the end of the Avenue Victor-Hugo.
He was astounded that Daubrecq was not awakened by so violent a din: "If I don't put a stop to this, they'll spoil everything," he said to himself. He stood in an angle of the house, invisible in the darkness, and measured the distance between himself and the gate. The gate was open.
Before taking it, the thing was to be certain. And how could he tell that, in taking it, in robbing Daubrecq of it, he was not committing an act of folly? It was a question which was impossible of solution, but which forced itself upon him with singular directness. "No blunders!" he said to himself, as he pocketed the stopper. "In this confounded business, blunders are fatal."
And, after a brief struggle, during which Lupin caught a glimpse of the man's bestial and contorted features, the two of them stood face to face, railing at each other like mortal enemies. Then they stopped. Daubrecq sat down. There was mischief in his face, and sarcasm as well. And he began to talk again, with sharp taps on the table, as though he were dictating terms. She no longer stirred.
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